


What a lie for you and I

by sheriffgreene



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Also it's a modern au. obviously, F/M, Female friendships FTW, Rosina has foot in mouth syndrome, The AU no one asked for, While You Were Sleeping AU, don't worry he gets what he deserves, mentions of whitworth who is a trash human being
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffgreene/pseuds/sheriffgreene
Summary: Rosina may or may not be in love with the young soldier who is a daily customer of the coffee shop she works at.Drake Carne may or may not be secretly engaged.One misplaced comment by Rosina has the Carne/Poldark family believing she's the secret fiancee and with their beloved brother MIA, how can she have the heart to tell them otherwise?Just one problem: Drake's older brother, Sam, isn't buying a word of this....A While You Were Sleeping AU of sorts with coffee shops, mistaken identities, female friendships and weird love triangles not everyone knows they're a part of.





	1. Prudie hates gossip

**Author's Note:**

> Your friendly neighborhood Samsina shipper here, *waves* back it again with another AU. I've had so much fun writing this I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave kudos and comments; as they help me get through the gloomy days wondering if Poldark season 5 will EVER come back.

“Just five more minutes,” Drake Carne mumbles, burrowing deeper into the duvet, relishing the early morning sunlight and the moment of unhurried peace. His last for a while.

“Sam will wonder where you’ve gone.”

A steaming cup of tea is placed on the bedside table, just in his line of sight and he squints up at the brunette, who looks wide awake and ready to get her day going. 

“Wenna, I’ve stayed over nearly every night I’ve been back. You don’t think he’s noticed?” 

She shrugs a little and sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his sleep-rumpled curls. 

“I just don’t want us to be found out,” she says thoughtfully. 

He sighs and takes her hand from his hair and into his own. 

“Would it be so bad if Sam knew?” He presses her palm to his lips and catches her eyes. “I love you, Morwenna, and I want my family to know how happy I am.”

Morwenna shakes her head a little and Drake instantly regrets his words. He can see her fading, see her withdrawing into whatever corners of her mind she’s made safe to block out the fear she lives with. 

“The more people know...Imagine it slips out in front of Elizabeth. She’ll tell George. And then... _he’ll_ know.” 

Drake’s grip tightens a little and he breathes slowly, trying to calm himself. He hates the ghost that still looms over his happiness with Morwenna. The years of torment and abuse she’d endured from a man who’s name he can’t even _think_ without rage building up inside him. It seemed like at every turn he was there, terrorizing her when all Drake wanted to do was keep her safe and love her. 

“It would be easier if at least Sam knew,” he insists one more time. “I’d rest easy knowing you could call him if you needed anything while I’m gone.”

She regards him thoughtfully and shakes her head.

“As long as we’re careful, you’ve no reason to worry.”

Drake sits up in bed and wraps his arms around her. “As you wish,” he says into her hair. She’d been infinitely brave when she’d left that man two years ago and though his memory haunted both of them, Drake knew better than to underestimate Morwenna. Or to take her quiet thoughtfulness for weakness. 

“We’ll tell them soon, I promise.”

“Sometime before the wedding?” He jokes, and she lets out a shy little giggle, the thought of their future together chasing the ghosts away. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, he’s coming. Don’t look!”

At Rosina’s instruction her co-worker, Jenny Carter, nearly breaks her neck, standing on tip-toes to look over the espresso machines and towards the front where the object of Rosina’s fascination is walking through the door, donning a pristine Army uniform. 

He smiles warmly at the pair of them, who are caught like deer in the headlights behind the counter with little else to do but stare at him as he walks up. 

“Morning,” he offers cheerfully. Jenny nods and starts wiping down a counter not before giving Rosina a push in the general direction of the till. 

“Morning!” She says a little breathlessly, “What will it be?” she asks him for the thirtieth day in a row.

She’s not obsessed with him. He’s just one of her regulars, she tells herself. He’s been coming into the coffee shop every morning at the same time for a month and always orders the same thing. An earl grey tea, sugar, milk and a blueberry scone. His name is Drake. He’s a Private in the British Army, currently on leave and lives with his brother in town. 

Alright, so she’s a little bit obsessed with him. 

Drake grins at her and Rosina’s insides turn to mush but she thinks she keeps it together rather well, all things considered. 

“Rosina,” he starts. Oh no, he’s said her name. She is _not_ keeping it together well. “I reckon you know my order by now.”

“Right,” she replies, and quickly charges him before scurrying away to get his order ready. He always tips her well; better than most of the shop’s patrons in fact and when she comes back towards the bar with his scone in hand, he’s shoving a few pounds into the tip jar and she wants to reach across and shake him. _I don’t need your money!!!_ (she does) _will you just_ ** _please_** _ask me out?_

“Going back, then?” she asks as she starts making the tea in front of him and gestures towards his uniform with the kettle when he’s either confused or distracted by the baked good in front of him.

“Oh, yeah. Fly out tomorrow morning.”

“Well, we had a good run,” she says forlorn and sarcastic, and then her eyes go wide realizing she’d said it out loud. She looks up from the tea and to his face and Drake is smiling widely, not entirely catching her meaning.

“I’ll be back soon enough,” he assures her, between bites. “I’ll miss your excellent baking.”

“Oh I don’t bake them,” she admits going red, “we just warm them in the back, really.”

Drake laughs good-naturedly and she runs to the kitchen before she can embarrass herself one more time. 

“He’s leaving tomorrow,” she announces to Jenny, who’s still pretending to clean something. 

“So now’s your chance,” she says matter-of-factly. “Go and do something!”

“Do what? It’s not like we can go on a date now that he’s leaving.”

“Who said anything about dates?” Jenny says waggling her eyebrows.

“Oh yeah, let me just proposition him for a wild night of sex before he goes to _war!_ ” 

“Isn’t that what all soldiers want?” Jenny asks, confused. The question stumps Rosina for a few seconds because she was merely being sarcastic but... _Is it?_

“Come on, just tell him how you feel. If it goes to shit, at least you won’t have to see him tomorrow.”

She considers this.

“I can’t do it,” she declares after a few seconds, shaking her head. 

“Yes, you can!” 

“No! I can’t!”

The bell from the front of the shop interrupts their debate, announcing a new patron and Rosina has no choice but to gather herself and walk out of the kitchen, where Drake is drinking his tea with one had and typing on his mobile with the other.

Rosina hovers between going towards him or towards the till, where a small line has started to form while she had a mini mental breakdown. 

She eventually sighs, goes to her post and rings order after order and soon Drake is making his way towards the door -no, hang on. He’s making his way towards _her._

“I’ll see you soon, Rosina,” he says with a friendly wink, stepping next to the customer at the till. 

“Be safe,” she blurts out. “I’ll be taking baking classes while you’re gone. You won’t want to miss my scones.”

**_Why_ ** _did I say that?_

He laughs and nods, tipping his head towards her in a salute before heading out of the cafe. Rosina, completely ignoring the customer ready to order, watches Drake leave; noticing in some absent part of her mind that Jenny has come to stand next to her to watch Drake leave, too. 

“When he comes back,” Rosina declares dreamily, “I’m marrying him.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Drake arrives home to the flat he shares with Sam, he realizes he has the majority of the day to himself before he’s due to meet Demelza and Ross for his going away dinner. With Morwenna in class at the local college and his family at work, he preoccupies himself with packing the few belongings he’s allowed into his army issued duffel bag. The task takes him about as long as one would expect for someone packing three sets of clothes, a toothbrush and a laptop and he quickly finds himself bored, waiting for his brother to return home.

He briefly considers going for a walk, maybe walking back to that coffee shop he’s taken a liking to but decides against it. He’d already said his good byes to his month-long barista so it was best to let her get on with her work and not be a bother. It’s not her fault he’s bored and has no friends in town.

The long deployments have him missing the obvious things, like his family and Morwenna and Demelza’s cooking and the evenings spent outdoors teaching Jeremy to play football.

But it’s the little things that get you. The details that make a place _home_ and if you dwell on them too much they kill you with sadness and longing. 

He’d miss the pattern the curtains in his bedroom made against his sheets just as the sun would rise. Light creeping up his bed, knowing that when the sunlight hits his face, he would hear Sam rise and turn the shower on. 

What Sundays sounded like at Nampara, when the Poldarks and the Enyses would get together for brunch and far too many voices and screaming children were cramped into the old house.

The smell of the tea Morwenna makes in the morning that is far too fruity for him and why he always ends up at the same coffee shop on his way home. Even the coffee shop girl was an integral piece of the home and the normalcy he finds when he’s back. Rosina, he thought, he’d miss her and their pleasant conversations. She was sweet and funny, sometimes without meaning to. Said things she shouldn’t and he pretended he didn’t catch on to spare her any embarrassment. She reminded him a little of a younger Demelza sometimes.

Truro is just coming back to life for the evening. He can hear the sounds of children playing outside in the street which means it’s late enough for school to be out. He’s been laying on the sofa for hours, hands behind his head and fighting sleep, when Sam walks through the door, looking harassed. 

“This means what I think it means, right?” He says by way of greeting and shoves a piece of paper in his face. 

Drake sits up and glances at it, confused. It looked like homework. Something about the rise of Christianity in Europe that he wasn’t going to bother to read and other standard homework-like things. Name. Date. Phone number. 

Wait.

He starts laughing and his brother only looks more disturbed. 

“So it _is_ what I thought.”

“That one of your students,” he looks up at the name typed in the corner, “ _Sarah_ , is trying to make a pass at you? Yes, brother, it is.”

Sam frowns and snatches the paper out of his hands, tucking it back inside his messenger bag. He walks over to the small kitchen table and starts putting his things down while shaking his head. 

“Don’t know what I could’ve done to encourage something like that,” he mutters disapprovingly and Drake just laughs some more. 

“She’s probably seen you moping about,” he says lightly. Delicately. Then, with a little more humor adds, “wanted to cheer you up.”

“It’s completely inappropriate,” Sam exclaims.

“She’s in a third year university course and you’re a TA!” Drake points out, “Doubt there’s much of an age difference.”

He watches his brother manically arrange his things on the table just so, getting ready for his evening ritual of grading for exactly two hours before breaking for dinner. Even with the night’s festivities, Sam was not to be deterred from his routine.

The eldest Carne brother had always been the more high strung of the two. He was a neat freak with a place for every single one of his belongings, a to-do list a mile long and every hour of his day planned out. Drake couldn’t really blame him for his anal-retentive tendencies. Being the eldest in their household, Sam took the brunt of their father’s rage once Demelza had gone and Drake knew that Sam’s quirks were a childhood coping mechanism to control at least _some_ aspects of his life. If every toy was picked up and put away, every mess that Drake made was cleaned, their father would have less to be angry about. 

They were adults now, free from their father for years, but old habits died hard. 

If there was ever a time when Sam had let loose, as much as Sam could, it was when he was with Emma. Drake had never known two people to be more different but for however long it lasted, it seemed to work. He was a little more care-free, a little more up for spontaneity. Sometimes he even stayed up past 11 pm.

Of course, Sam and Emma had abruptly broken up a few weeks before Drake arrived back in England and not only did Sam refuse to talk about it, he refused to act like his relationship ever happened at all. Throwing himself back into his work at the start of the new term and only coming up for air when absolutely necessary. 

Drake watches his brother now, running his hands through his long hair as he concentrates on his students’ work.

“Might do you some good to go out with someone again. You’ll need human interaction when I leave.”

Sam’s grey eyes cut to him with a frown before quickly going back to his work.

“I thought,” he says distractedly, marking something on the paper in front of him. “the unspoken agreement was we don’t meddle in each others’ dating lives.” Sam finishes writing some comments and looks back up at him. “For example, you stay out of mine, and I don’t ask where you go every night.”

He goes back to his work with a smirk because he’s deliberately teasing him. 

“I’d tell you if you asked,” Drake offers and Sam holds one hand up.

“I won’t ask. Your secrets are your business, brother.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Mrs. Poldark! Mrs. Poldark!”

“Judas, Prudie! You scared me.”

“Sorry Mrs. Poldark. There’s something you should know.”

Their long-time nanny and house keeper seems out of breath as Demelza eyes her while slipping on her heels.

“Yes well, walk and talk, Prudie our dinner reservation is at 7.” 

“Demelza!” Comes Ross Poldark’s disembodied voice from somewhere else in the house. “Where are Bella’s blue shoes?”

“They’re in the cupboard!” Demelza digs through her jewelry box to find a matching earring. “Yes, Prudie?”

“I only wanted to say that I’ve found out who the girl is Mr. Drake’s been seein’”

“I thought Drake asked us not to pry,” this time Ross’ disembodied head pokes through the door frame. “Demelza. They’re not in the cupboard.”

“The downstairs cupboard by the front door.” Aha! Second earring in. “He asked us not to _ask,_ ” she replies primly.

“I wouldn’t say anything m’am, you know I’m not one to gossip-”

“Pfft,” Ross rolls his eyes in disbelief and vanishes down the hall.

“Jeremy! Darling please tell me you’ve got your coat on,” Demelza calls out to her suspiciously quiet son, peeking in rooms for him as she walks down the hall.

“But I know how you like knowing after your brothers’ well being.”

“You’re going to have to get them yourself,” Ross announces. “I can’t find them.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake just put any shoes on her, Ross!” She calls as she descends the stairs to the foyer.

“And I did find out purely by accident.”

“Out with it Prudie!” 

Prudie stops suddenly and babbles.

“A blonde slip of a girl at the coffee shop in town. Name’s Rosina.”

“Found them!” Ross enters the room triumphantly, holding tiny blue shoes.

“Oh and,” Prudie continues, “they’re engaged.”

From behind a corner, Jeremy throws a ball at his father’s head.


	2. Demelza hates to interrupt, but-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack. The trouble is, I can write a monster of a chapter in about 24 hours and then writer's block hits me for 5 months. Thanks for being patient with me.  
> Also, spoiler but Drake is FINE. I don't want anyone to think I'm being so blasé about a character I've killed off. This is meant to be a fun story. Alright, enough of me. Here it is. Enjoy!

Demelza tries to play it cool. At Ross’ disapproving -but amused- look, she refrains from packing up the children and making a casual appearance at _The Copper Cup_ for an entire week. She does, however, cave and stalk the coffee shop on Instagram, on the off chance she could find a picture or a profile but to her dismay, all she found were aesthetically pleasing pictures of cappuccinos and lattes with little hearts and leaves in the foam. There was no Rosina to be found. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that part of her obsession with the girl who would some day be her sister-in-law was due to the void her youngest brother left behind. She loved her brothers dearly but where Sam was serious and reserved, Drake was open and warm and he left a gaping emptiness in her life that was normally filled with Drake’s cheerfulness. Sharing with someone who missed him maybe just as much as they (his family) did, was a way for Demelza to snatch back a piece of him while he was so far away and in dangers she couldn’t even imagine. 

Sam, ever observant, had pointed out as much when she last tried to grill him for any information he might have on the mystery girl. 

“I know you miss him, but I think it’s best we respect his wishes.”

“He didn’t tell you anything?”

“He tried to once, before he left, but I assumed...well, never mind.”

“No, go on, Sam. What is it?”

Sam is staring off into the distance with eyes narrowed and a furrowed brow. 

“To be honest, I thought the reason he wasn’t telling us was because he was back with Morwenna.”

Demelza is quiet for several moments, thinking this new information over as Sam presses on.

“It made sense then. With that arsehole she used to be married to, I imagined they were trying to be discreet for Morwenna’s peace of mind.”

Demelza nods as her brother finishes explaining. 

“I have to admit, I never really thought Drake would move on from Morwenna.”

Sam stands to leave, placing a comforting hand on Demelza’s shoulder. 

“He’s happy now. And he’ll be home soon enough to tell us all about it for himself.”

Two weeks later, Demelza reaches her breaking point. 

 

* * *

 

 

Rosina is just finishing up her shift, taking the rubbish out one last time before she heads home when she sees her co-worker gesturing towards her from the back door. 

“There’s a woman here asking for you,” Jenny informs her. 

“Who?”

Jenny shrugs, “Don’t know. She just asked to speak with you. Looks very put out, might I add.”

Rosina sighs, undoing her apron and walking back into the shop, hoping it wasn’t a complaining customer. 

When she reaches the counter she sees a woman with striking red hair pacing in front of the till. She _does_ look upset, but not with her or her coffee. 

“Rosina?” She asks when she catches sight of her, Rosina nods slowly and the woman comes closer, taking a deep breath as she takes her in. 

“My, you’re so pretty,” she says quietly, almost to herself. 

Rosina looks back at Jenny who shrugs in the same confusion she’s feeling. 

“I’m sorry, but, who are you?”

“Right, sorry,” the woman seems to snap back from some far off thought, “can we talk?”

Once seated at a small table, Rosina waits patiently to be brought up to speed of whatever business this woman seems to have with her.

“I’m Demelza.” 

Rosina blinks. 

“Demelza Carne.”

Carne...Carne...she ponders the surname for a few seconds with a frown on her face. 

“Oh! You’re Drake’s sister?” 

“Yes,” she says gently and studies Rosina a little more closely, waiting for her reaction. 

There’s a brief moment where Rosina fears something to have happened to Drake but quickly dismisses it, knowing that if true, surely his family wouldn’t think of _her_ as someone to keep in the know.

“How is he then? Have you heard from him?”

Demelza lets out a shaky breath and the fear for the worst starts creeping back on to Rosina. 

“I suppose you’d have no way of knowing but,” she pauses as if to gather herself, “Drake’s been missing in action for nearly three weeks now.”

“What?” Rosina exclaims, horrified. Demelza nods and takes one of Rosina’s hands atop the table, her eyes tearing.

“He was sent on a mission and his commanding officers haven’t heard from him.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rosina mutters breathlessly. It seemed like just yesterday the young man had been right in front of her and now...

“I thought you might not know. And if you did, I didn’t want you to go through this alone. We love him too, we should stick together right now.”

She was touched, really, that his sister had sought her out, knowing she love -hang on. _What?_

“I’m sorry,” Rosina starts, stammering, “how did you-?”

“It’s a small town,” Demelza says shrugging. “someone overheard you and told me but honestly Rosina, the last thing you need to worry about right now are these secrets.” Rosina starts shaking hear head, as if trying to rattle the words she’s hearing into a way that makes sense. Because nothing about the sister of your missing crush that you’ve known for a month coming in to your place of work to offer condolences makes sense.

“I still don’t understand, though. Drake doesn’t know-” but Rosina can’t get a word in; and the fact that she’s struggling to string sentences together as her brain tries to keep up with the situation isn’t helping.

“Whatever reasons he had for keeping this a secret we’ll deal with when he comes home. You need us right now. And we need you.”

Rosina allows herself to blink for a few moments, gathering the sense to ask, “what secret are you talking about, exactly?”

“Your engagement,” Demelza says matter-of-factly and Rosina gapes at her soundlessly, trying not to choke on air.

“What?!”

“We know all about it, dear, don’t worry about any of that right now. We just want to get to know you.”

Rosina pushes back on her chair, getting ready to physically run away from this woman who seems to be even more confused than she is at the moment (and that was saying something).

“Miss Carne I think you’re mistaken-”

“Please,” Demelza interrupts and Rosina wants to scream. “You and Drake have your reasons but please let’s stay in touch, yeah?” She takes out a business card and a pen, writing her number on the back of it. 

When Rosina takes it she turns it over, seeing _Ross Poldark_ printed on the other side. 

“My husband,” Demelza supplies when she sees her. Rosina’s gaze snaps back to Demelza, not expecting that information. She recognized the Poldark name as one of the oldest in Cornwall. Everywhere you turned, everything you touched was at one point owned by a Poldark. Now a days it’s probably financed by Warleggan Bank but Ross Poldark’s name still carried weight in their town. She had no idea Drake was a part of that family. Which _of course_ she didn’t. Because she doesn’t know him. Because that’s the kind of information a fiancee would know and they **aren’t engaged.**

“Miss Carne,” she starts. She glances down at the card in her hand, “ _Mrs. Poldark,_ I’m not sure what you heard but it’s not true.”

“I know you’re trying to protect Drake’s privacy,” Demelza says and Rosina wants to scream. She’s _not_ engaged to him! How can she say it any more convincingly? “But look, let’s just stay in touch, alright? No harm in that.”

Rosina stares, at a loss for words. Demelza’s mobile pings atop the table and she quickly reads it. 

“I’ve got to go. Kids are done with school.”

“Jeremy,” Rosina says absent-mindedly. She’s recalling a story now Drake once told her about his young nephew. Demelza beams at her and Rosina realizes she’s not doing much to convince her she really isn’t Drake’s fiancee. 

“And Bella,” she adds, gathering her things and standing. “I’ll keep in touch. If we hear from Drake, I’ll let you know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rosina walks home that afternoon as if on auto-pilot, trying to process what exactly she’d just inadvertently gotten herself into. She replayed the conversation in her mind, wondering where she’d gone wrong and came up with, admittedly, a million answers but ultimately she couldn’t focus entirely on all that when the very real and terrifying thought that Drake was missing crept into her mind. She wasn’t his fiancee. She didn’t even know him all that well but of course she worried. 

There was also a part of her that was very disturbed by the fact that someone overheard _something_ she said, and ran with it until Drake’s own sister could believe she was engaged to him. How mortifying. 

Worry, confusion and embarrassment hounded her so much that she barely registered walking into her small one-room flat, only coming to when she was standing aimlessly in the middle of the space. 

She sighs at the mess she left that morning, running late to her shift, and begins tidying up. In a space that size she really couldn’t afford to have too much clutter. She sometimes misses the vastness of her childhood home. While her family was poor and she shared a room with her youngest sister all her life, their small house was in the great open country and until the day she left home the Cornish seaside was the most privacy she’d ever known. 

In town, she had a tiny attic flat in the middle of Truro village where her neighbor couldn’t so much as sneeze without Rosina hearing it. She didn’t exactly love it, but it was all hers. And it came with her freedom. 

Her father had more or less disowned her when she’d decided to leave for university instead of making home until he married her off like this was the 1700s. She wasn’t welcome back to their home with her “grand ideas”, as Jacka Hoblyn called them and she missed her siblings terribly but there’s not a thing in the world she would trade for her dreams.

They weren’t exactly grandiose dreams. She’d wanted to become a primary school teacher but months after graduating from university ticked by and she’d yet to find a position and rent needed to be paid, so she ended up at the cafe. For now. She’d not given up yet and she’d not be returning home. 

She threw herself on her squeaky, second-hand sofa and looked around, satisfied with her handiwork. She took out her mobile and worried her lower lip between her teeth, pondering. She’d saved Demelza Carne’s number, just in case. She hadn’t planned on texting her at first, Demelza didn’t have her number after all and she figured this was the perfect way to pretend this had never happened but as she thought more on it, she realized Demelza would probably just seek her out again at the cafe and, like today, perhaps not let her get a word in. So her current plan was to send her a long winded text about how she had the wrong girl but to still keep her posted on Drake’s well-being. 

No harm in that, right?

And when her brother returns safe and sound, should he fancy _actually_ marrying her, well, she could just pass Rosina’s number along... 

_Hi Demelza! It’s Rosina.._

She typed quickly as an opener, hit _send_ and then set the phone aside to gather herself.

She groaned and threw her head back on to the headrest of the sofa. This was possibly the most embarrassing situation she’d ever found herself in. And that was including the time she lost her mind and threw herself at her handsome doctor; who quickly informed her he was “married to his job”. 

(She later found out he was _actually_ married to one of those heiress-turned-supermodels valued at over 4 million Instagram followers so...so much for that.)

Her mobile pinged with a new message and she picked it up with shaking hands. She was going to get the truth in this time. She was. 

_Rosina! I’m so glad you texted! I’d love if you came over for dinner this Friday. It would mean so much to all of us! Here’s the address:_

 

* * *

 

 

“So just to get this right: his whole family thinks you’re engaged?”

“YES, Jenny, for the millionth time, yes!” She says impatiently into her mobile. She’s running out of her bathroom, wet hair sticking to her towel-clad body. Her and Jenny’s shifts hadn’t aligned for the entire week and now, at the literal last minute, she felt as if she might burst with nervousness if she didn’t tell _someone_ about what was going on.

“And you didn’t tell her otherwise?”

“I tried to! She wouldn’t listen! She kept saying that I was just trying to keep it a secret!”

“You do realize what this means?”

“That my life is mental?” She throws herself dramatically on to her bed, staring at the water-stained ceiling. 

“That he probably _does_ have a secret fiancee out there somewhere.”

She sits back up immediately. Until Jenny had uttered the words, it had never occurred to her.

“Do you think?”

“Of course! Or else why would they be so quick to believe it?”

“Shit.”

She starts pacing about her room, noticing the time on the clock and getting only more nervous since she should have been out the door by now. 

“What do you mean, ‘shit’?”

“I agreed to have dinner with them tonight.”

“What?!”

“It just happened! Demelza seemed so put out that Drake is missing, I couldn’t say no! Plus I’m worried about him too!”

“He’s not your _actual_ fiancé!” she hears Jenny exclaim.

Rosina scoffs indignant, “That doesn’t mean I don’t care!”

“Rosina what are you going to do if the real girlfriend shows up?”

There’s a silence while Rosina ponders this, but also somehow manages to ponder between the two dress options she’s pulled from her wardrobe. 

“I guess I’ll just have to hope she doesn’t.”

She couldn’t explain why she said yes to Demelza’s invitation. Not to Jenny or to herself. Obviously a part of it was that she’d somehow fallen in too deep and it would be far more mortifying to explain now; like when you’ve gone too long not knowing someone’s name to feel comfortable asking. But a part of her was...excited. Oh, she was a horrible person, she knew it. Excited to be invited to the Poldark’s grand old house for dinner even if it was only because their beloved family member was missing in the middle of **war**. 

But there was also something about Demelza being so kind to her. So warm and welcoming and she _wanted_ Rosina to be a part of their family. And Rosina found herself wanting to be a part of it. She’d had to give her family up that she longed for one again even if it was under these strange circumstances. More often than she was willing to admit, especially to herself, she found herself rather lonely. 

She’s sitting in a taxi (really splurged for that) as she sees the old Nampara house creeping into view and she can’t help but be mesmerized by it. It’s not as large as the pictures she’s seen of the Trenwith Estate but it’s by far the grandest place Rosina’s ever laid eyes on. And while Trenwith now serves as an upscale hotel owned by Warleggan Bank, Nampara is still owned and occupied by the same line of Poldarks that built it. The last of them, as she’s aware. 

When she exits the taxi, Demelza is waiting for her at the door, taking her into a hug.

“We’re so glad you came, dear,” she says when she releases a guilty looking Rosina and leads her inside. 

“Any news from Drake?” She asks when she’s seated at the dining table some minutes later. She notices two place settings aside from hers and Demelza’s and wonders who they’re waiting for.

“‘Fraid not,” Demelza replies sadly and Rosina instantly feels terrible for intruding on a family’s grief like this. She must be mad to be going along with this.

“You can start serving Prudie,” Demelza says to the housekeeper, as heavy footsteps approach them and a man that Rosina can only assume is Ross Poldark enters the room.

Introductions are made and while Rosina felt quite intimidated by him at first, his dark and handsome face breaks out into a friendly smile the minute he reaches across the table to shake her hand.

“Will Sam not be joining us?” he asks his wife as the food starts coming out.

“He’s still on his way back from Bath, he doesn’t know if he’ll make it.”

“Sam’s gone to Bath? What on earth for?”

Demelza just purses her lips and looks pointedly at her husband who seems to catch the unspoken meaning to her looks. He sighs and reaches for his drink and Rosina feels as if she’s walked into a movie half-way through. Lost in the lives of strangers.

“For all of Sam’s cleverness, he does some incredibly stupid things sometimes.”

“Ross, be kind to Sam,” Demelza chastises, looking ahead blankly in contemplation of this absent guest, “I can’t imagine he’s having an easy time of all this.”

“He’ll find nothing but disappointment in Bath, believe me, I’ve talked to Tholly. If he weren’t so damn stubborn...” Ross stops to glance at his wife good-naturedly, “but he’s too much like his sister.”

“You think? Sam can be so closed-off...sometimes I worry about him.”

“Sam will be fine,” Ross reassures her. “It’s Drake that’s always getting into mischief. Isn’t that right, Rosina?”

Rosina smiles shyly and shrugs, “I suppose so,” she replies, digging in to her food. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Engaged. She was engaged. Sam griped the steering wheel a bit tighter, feeling the muscles in his jaw twitch from sheer force. Every bit of him was clenching with barely contained emotion as he tried to focus on nothing else but breathing through his nose and driving. 

He’d made the hours’ long trek to Bath to find Emma after promising himself he would never do that. When she’d walked away from him, he swore he would make peace with her decision and let her go, as much as it would kill him. But that was before his brother had gone missing God knows where and in a moment of desperation he’d gone running to her, hoping for solace and comfort and relief from the nervous energy that was eating him alive, not knowing if his brother lived or not. 

Instead, what he’d found was Emma, engaged to a bartender ex-boyfriend and a look of pity for him as if she could hardly believe that he was still in love with her. Since he’d meant so little to her. 

He’s not angry at Emma. How can he be? She never made him any promises, she was clear about her feelings at every turn. No, this was all on him. For thinking he could bottle up his feelings about their break up until they exploded that afternoon and in a moment of madness he drove three hours to see her moving on with her life. He had no one but himself to blame.

He’s meant to drive home, he’s in a sour mood by the half-way mark of the drive and he wants nothing more than to ignore the incoming messages he hasn’t read but knows are from Demelza and go to his flat and sulk in silence for once in his life. _For once_ because he doesn’t sulk. Not ever. He’s usually the poster child of patience and restraint and he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s lost his cool. 

He’s just about to turn off the road that leads into the village when the thought of his flat crosses his mind. His empty flat. A flat that once contained his brother who may be dead now. 

He misses the turn and heads straight for Nampara.

He sits in his car for a few moments, collecting his thoughts and readying himself for what was to come. He hadn’t forgotten that tonight was the night he was due to meet Drake’s surprise fiancee. In fact, that was part of what drove him to Bath in the first place. Thinking of his brother and this woman who clearly meant a lot to him, about how tenuous life is, how quickly it could all be lost and he hadn’t wanted to wait to have one more chance to speak his peace to Emma. 

He slams the door to his car and heads towards the house, not keen on pondering his evening any longer.

Ross greets him at the door and they chat a moment while Ross looks through the post discarded on a table nearby. 

“Are you staying, then?” Ross asks his young brother-in-law, who’s already shaking his head.

“I’m knackered. It was a long drive. But Demelza insisted and I just wanted to stop by and-”

“Meet Rosina?” He asks with a grin while Sam rolls his eyes impatiently. “Don’t worry, we were all curious; she’s actually quite-”

But Sam never finds out what Rosina is quite like, because the young woman herself walks into the foyer.

“I think I’ll be heading out now. Thank you so much for having me.”

Ross smiles at her and gestures towards Sam.

“Rosina, this is Sam.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says brightly.

Sam nods wordlessly, lips pressed in a thin line while he regards the girl in front of him. She’s young, was his first thought. Small and young looking, fair and blonde with almost doll-like features. He frowns. Not exactly what he thought of for Drake. Or perhaps it was just that the dark looks of Morwenna Chynoweth were etched into his mind when he thought of someone on his brother’s arm. It was hard to imagine Drake with anyone but Morwenna, with how much he’d loved her. Hard to imagine he’d moved on. 

But he had. Just like Emma had. Drake had moved on from a heartbreak he’d felt so much Sam had had to stage multiple interventions and the proof was staring at him right in the face. Quite bewildered, actually. Probably because he had been staring at her with a frown for far too long.

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Rosina when his sister walked in. 

“I see you’ve met Rosina,” she says by way of greeting as she hugs him. “Will you be staying for dinner? We’ve just finished but I can ask Prudie to heat something up for you.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Just wanted to let you know I’ve gotten back from Bath in one piece.”

There’s a mini argument they all have every other time Sam or Drake visit Nampara where Demelza insists on feeding him, Sam refuses and Ross tries to convince Demelza to let it go. They’re doing that dance now, with Rosina watching quietly between them and with Sam’s already waning patience he’s grateful when she interrupts asking to borrow someone’s mobile. 

“Mine’s dead,” she explains. “Just need to call a taxi.”

“Oh Sam can drive you!” Demelza offers and Sam’s neck nearly snaps with how fast he turns to look at his sister. He knows he’ll never hear the end of it, but he desperately wants to be alone at that moment and he can’t think of anything worse than making small talk with Drake’s girlfriend; whose existence he didn’t know of until days ago.

“I don’t want to bother-” Rosina stammers, eyes wide and looking at him for help. 

“It’s no bother,” Demelza supplies. Easy for her to say. “Sam lives in Truro as well, I’m sure it’s on his way.”

There’s a beat of silence, where Rosina looks too terrified to speak, Demelza looks at him expectantly as if daring him to contradict her and Ross, ever perceptive to others’ moods, looks as if he’s about to _laugh._

“Here, use my phone,” Sam says.

Oh, he would definitely never hear the end of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I give myself props for having made Rosina a primary school teacher before the last episode aired? I'm going to do it anyway...

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think?  
> Leave a comment below! (because I am not above begging and need attention at all times)


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